A wanderer Episode 1

 

"Love is a painless pain. The woman had taken out the novel from her handbag. The boy sitting next to the lady had a sarcastic smile on his face. He looked at the woman who was wearing hijab

On his hands he had placed black gloves of fine cloth. His face was covered with a mask, only his deep black eyes were visible The woman's eyes were following the words on the pages of the novel.

The boy got up and walked towards the washroom.

He was an attractive boy of twenty-five. Whose complexion was fair and of medium height.

There was a slight arch above the bright forehead, which was often hidden under long black hair

. Black eyes often have redness. On his way to the washroom, the boy took a look at the other business class passengers, many of whom were sleepy after having lunch.

The plane had taken off from London's Heathrow Airport to Lahore's Allama Iqbal International Airport. The boy came back and started sitting on his seat, before sitting down, he looked again at the woman reading the novel, the woman was around thirty-five years old.

She was reading a novel engrossed in her tune. The young man wanted to sleep but was distracted by the light of the lady reading the novel.

The pilot had turned off most of the lights that were lit in the routine keeping in mind the comfort of the passengers The woman flipped the next page of the novel very smoothly. The boy's eyes were on his hands, which the woman had guessed.

 He also realized the boy's anxiety. "Brother! Do you have any problem because of me” asked the woman with a sophisticated voice?

The woman's speech and manner of speaking were very good. “Even a little light makes me sleepy," the boy said seriously. A sweet smile appeared on the lady's face, she held the novel in her left hand and turned off the light switch with the index finger of her right hand.

"In my opinion, sleep is related to the peace of the heart, if the heart is satisfied, sleep comes anywhere.

"The woman gave her opinion while examining the young man's face after turning off the light "One's mood is not related to peace or restlessness. I am very satisfied and relieved."

 The young man also looked carefully at the woman and replied. A slight smile appeared on the woman's lips after hearing the young man's words.

"Brother! I didn't talk to you. Well, you rest." The woman leaned against the back of the seat and looked up with open eyes.

He kept the novel in his lap. Prior to this, during the last six hours of driving, both of them had only said "hi hello, salaam dua, thank you and thank you" to each other with an introductory smile.

The novel lying in the lady's lap had once again caught the young man's attention.

"You also read such novels..." The young man asked the question instead of sleeping The woman was shocked at his voice and looked at him and asked:

"What kind of meaning...? I don't understand...?" This time the lady's face was serious.

"Novels published episodically in digests which have no purpose are just a waste of time..." the young man bluntly commented to himself. “You don't read such pointless novels..." The woman asked with a questioning look, the young man laughed a little, he would have laughed even louder if he didn't think about the sleep of other passengers.

One thing was that they were both talking in low tones.

"I have strictly forbidden Bazla, the newsman, to read such novels!"

"Bazla is your spouse...?" the woman asked Hola.

"I am not married yet..." replied the young man dryly.

"Sister is..." guessed the woman. The young man shook his head in the negative and said:

"There is no sister.

Yes, it's like a sister. The boy had seen her subdued smile despite her hijab. “Why did you smile at me?" asked the young man with some confusion.

"You have a deep look... you can even see the smile behind the curtain."

"This is not the answer to my question!" The woman looked at the boy's restrained expression, then said seriously:

"Look brother! A relationship cannot be run on the crutches of like-mindedness

A sister is only a sister. Sister is not the same. We often say it's like my sister. That lady is like my mother. You are like my father. You are like my son. No man ever says that.

 I think of that woman as my wife. You have never heard that from a woman's mouth.

I consider that man as my husband. Now you have to decide whether Bazala is your sister or not. Get Jesse out of the middle…”

"By the way, I don't give up easily, I'm very stubborn, but your words touched my heart. I admit, Bazala is my sister" Both lips shared the taste of a smile. The boy smiled for the first time in the entire conversation.

"You make a relationship immediately... since when are you calling me brother"

"Brother! Where do I come from… making relationships…”? The lady ran her hands over the novel on her lap as if it were something sacred in her eyes. After that, the lady put that novel in the handbag lying on her side. The boy watched this whole process very carefully and then he spoke the words of his heart:

"You seem to have a special fondness for this novel."

"Yes..." said the woman without Tamil.

"No particular reason..."

"This is my story," said the woman, lowering her eyes.

Bazla also had the same opinion as you after reading this novel She said, brother, after reading this novel, I felt as if it was my own story. Lana Herry is his favorite writer. Bazla has all the novels of this writer.

 The boy was listening to the woman with great interest. However, it was not a tongue twister at all.

"Lana Herry is your sister Bazla's favorite writer and your...?" asked the woman eagerly. “I am a businessman. There is absolutely no attachment to poetry and literature...I read books, but not the useless kind.

"You consider Urdu literature and poetry useless"

"Yes...our entire literature revolves around only two words. Love and Ishq" As far as poetry is concerned, it runs on the support of hijr and pain...

Don't talk about other writers now, take Lana Herry and write all his novels on love The woman was listening carefully to the boy's words.

"Are you against Lana Herry or love...?" asked the lady politely.

"Both...love is the word most deceived in the world," replied the boy bitterly. The lady was enjoying his sensuality.

"The opposition to love is understood. According to you, love causes deception. Why are you against Lana Herry?

"She keeps advocating love by creating fictional characters" replied the boy like a stubborn child.

"Lana Herry has only created characters that exist in the society around us. She doesn't think of the characters but sees them, she writes what she sees," said the woman with complete conviction.

"You are talking as if you know Lana Herry..." Love is a painless pain.

"Isn't it the same novel in which a boy and a girl die for each other?"

"Yes...!"

"Impossible...what do you say in Urdu...Yes, I remember. Salim's intellect is not ready to accept this...This is beyond my understanding" said the boy emotionally.

"What is understood is what is said. "What does not come is called love," the woman replied like an intellectual.

After a pause she spoke again:

"How can you understand mother's love...?"

He looked at the lady with strange eyes and looked for a while then rang the bell to call the air hostess, the air hostess came and the boy asked her for water. The boy who brought the water had finished all the water in one breath.

"You didn't answer..." The woman looked at the boy questioningly.

His neck was bowed and his eyes were dazzled.

"Leave mother's Mamta... tell me how you know Lana Herry...?" The boy consciously rounded the question. The lady looked at him with a questioning look and after a few moments of thought she would say:

"I believe that a writer's writings reflect his personality. I know Lana Herry through his writings.

"

"Excuse me...your Lana Herry is a character himself" the boy again gave his opinion.

"How did he…?" asked the lady hurriedly. “Look... in the era of social media, there is so much backwardness... there is no picture of her on TV... the poor thing keeps searching on Google."

"It's his private life to live as he pleases."

The woman replied seriously.

He smiled wryly.

"The one who writes about love does not understand love, he should meet people. People want to see it on TV. Want to hear his words. Want to take pictures with him. People love him "There is no condition of seeing in love... She writes what she wants to say to her lovers in her novels. It is a different form of love.

"

"Love... love... I hate love..." said the boy gritting his teeth. He had taken out the dust of his heart. The lady put her hand on his shoulder in surprise and politely said:

"Look brother! Don't hate love so much…if it turns cruel…?”

"So...?

"So that... the more he opposes it, the more he circumambulates it before his presence..."

The woman offered her perspective on the style of advice.

The boy closed his eyes after listening to her. For a while there was silence on both sides.

"We have been talking for hours without any introduction...I am Morgan bag...exporter...Leather goods and tracksuits...export to France Germany and UK...I have two factories in Lahore..."

I Lana Herry! I am a writer … I have written many novels,” Lana introduced himself in the style of Morgan.

Morgan Baig was surprised. The woman he had been opposing for an hour was sitting next to him.

"I want to tell you something. Actually I mean that…” Morgan Beg paused.

"Look brother! I didn't feel bad about anything you said. Now listen to me!! You said:

"One's mood is not related to peace or restlessness. I am very content and calm. If there is love in my nature, peace can be seen from the face, there is no need to tell it."

You also said that Lana Herry is a character.

 I believe that every writer is a character himself first, then he quickly recognizes the characters scattered in the society.

Because they are from his tribe. I recognize you too. You are also a character. Your story will certainly be very different and unique.

But it is still incomplete.

You find yourself between the valleys of love and hate.

When you find the destination of love, call me, then I will write a novel about you.

You also objected to the characters in my novel "Love is Painless".

The characters you think are fictional, in reality they are quite a bit. I wrote Rafat and Rameez after seeing them with my own eyes. Only their names were changed, everything else was the truth" Lana Herry spoke very eloquently.

Jackie Herry took out his lady's violet from his handbag, took out his visiting card from it and handed it to Morgan's bag, which he held silently. Jackie Herry spoke again politely:

"I can tell you the names of dozens of novels printed in digests that have changed the lives of thousands of people by reading them.

It would be unfair to call the writing a waste of time after reading it.

You also said that Lana Herry advocates love. Morgan brother!! Who am I to advocate love? Love is its own advocate and the one whose advocate is love itself, he becomes self-sufficient in himself.”

Jackie Herry spoke eloquently. At that time, there were many confusions on the face of Morgan.

He was mentally standing on the gap between love and hate at that time. Lana Herry saw the expression on his face and smiled and said in a sweet voice. “Morgan brother! As soon as the last thing was mentioned about the mother, the features of your face changed. Why was that?

I will not ask this is your personal matter. A few days ago I got an opportunity to read a novel by a new writer. He wrote a very good line "No matter how you are like a mother, you have given me a new gift in heaven. “The name starts with "M".

Mother and love are also from me. A fan once asked me via email, tell me the meaning of your love.

"God willing, we are about to land at Lahore's Allama Iqbal International Airport shortly. Fasten the safety belt and straighten the back of the chair…”

The air hostesses had broken the streak of Lana Herry's words of wisdom.

After the landing of the plane, Morgan took out Jackie Herry's hand carry from the cabin and handed it over to him. Jackie Herry looked at him with grateful eyes and said with a smile:

"Morgan brother! I am sorry if anything happened unpleasantly.